
1575

1574

1573

1572

1571

1570
This thought is clothed in its address,
That minds the light with darted hand,
And breathes the night air too:
And too this dress is thought,
Though breathless and unlimbed.
What is the mind in its own place,
That makes without within?
What calamity of memory is its obverse
In meet wonder?
To make a heaven of a hell
Small business
Wants this mirror that sees itself.

1569

1568

1567

1566

1565

1564

1563

1562

1561
Perfumed we pace across
The space of an object palace.
Well-spoken tokens of invitation,
And vials of scent,
Open what's illusion to elusive:
As a symbol in a glass
Signifies the signified merely;
Unlike interiors, in action reified,
Accreted in an I.
A work-related smile
Meets my conspiring nod,
We ligatured by a protocol
To the objects even, remembered placed about.

1560

1559

1558

1557

1556

1555

1554

1553

1552

1551

1550

1549

1548
Once whispered, you,
Descried by a touchless me;
Of turbid vessels, we:
In self-confliction entwined.
Imagined our warm wooden room
Of no tree in perfection wrought
By a threadbare mutual I.
Yes palpable by heat,
Your solitary hand
And seaside hair:
Not physicality,
But a tautened string of thought
Was for a time our slight selves.

1547

1546

1545

1544

1543

1542

1541

1540

1539

1538

1537
1536
Was that today, my daughter?
We seemed as younger selves,
Dressed in future swiftness,
With a rational countryside of time
Beneath our joined hands.
Through iterations of incidental honesty
Are our yesterdays to this present fixed,
And the landscape crossed with crooked years.
We sifted happenstance for what quality?
It was fast, it was all of love.

1535

1534

1533

1532

1531

1530

1529

1528

1527

1526